


Good Bad Luck

by somanyfeels



Series: Momentum [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Closeted Character, Graphic Description, Happy Ending, Hockey, Hurt Bitty, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-21 19:25:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8257564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somanyfeels/pseuds/somanyfeels
Summary: Holster hit the ground just moments before he did.  Bitty had seen his legs still in the air, now falling as the rest of his body leveled out on the ice.  Bitty would make him something nice since he would likely be sore later.  Or he hoped to make Holster something nice.  Bitty was starting to think he would also feel too sore to do much baking now that he saw the blood droplets shooting up as Bitty kept falling down.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Mon Bonheur](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7102417) by [YumKiwiDelicious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumKiwiDelicious/pseuds/YumKiwiDelicious). 



> WARNING: This fic contains a very serious injury. It will be graphic and bloody so I advise not to read ahead if you're squeamish about any of that. A similar injury had happened to Clint Malarchuk in 1989, if you're curious to know more, but I would warn against watching videos or seeing photos of that injury.

Princeton was bad luck.  It was common to be superstitious in sports, Bitty hadn’t been immune to that.  Jack had to have a pb&j sandwich before every game, Holster watches 30 Rock, Coach kept the volume at an even number on Bulldogs games, and Princeton was bad luck.  Superstition was about as vital to sports culture as the actual game.

The first time Bitty had played against Princeton it was freshman year.  He remembered that game now as he was gliding across the ice, it had been a bad game.  He didn’t have the puck, but he knew what his team was doing.  Someone on the Princeton team was skating close to the wall, the puck in his possession.  Bitty was keeping his distance, trying to remain open, because Holster was going in for a check and Bitty had to be ready to dart in and grab the puck.  Ransom was waiting in the distance, ready to receive the puck Bitty would pass to him.

It was a good play, one they had done before, one they had practiced a dozen times.  But in practice the other players were all on his team, Bitty knew how much they all weighed and their style of playing.  He knew how they took a check.  Princeton was less familiar.  As he skated in close to grab the puck as Holster raced in to free it up for him he was caught by a series of surprises.

Holster was a big man.  He was 6’4 and 220 pounds, Bitty knew how fast he could skate and that usually when he hit a guy they went down.  He didn’t know those things about the Princeton player, just that he seemed so much bigger now that Holster was crashing into his side.  That was the first surprise; he didn’t go down.

The second surprise was that Holster didn’t stop moving.  He had built up enough momentum to take down a giant, but the giant stayed up and had twisted his body enough that Holster kept going.  His body threw itself forward over the other player, flipping over him as he fell face first towards the ice.  As his head went down, his feet came up.  Bitty’s own momentum was still carrying him straight for their collision.

He could handle checks these days.  Hockey was a contact sport and he had gotten used to the physicality of it.  Checking still terrified Bitty, he still felt his knees go weak at the thought of someone hitting him, but he handled it better.  He didn’t collapse from fear or cry out when someone bumped him.  Bitty could take a check.  The third surprise was that it was only a dull ache as Bitty fell to the ground.

\---

_Bitty was a freshman when he first played against Princeton.  It was a playoff game, they were trying to get into the Frozen Four.  He had skated off the ice with a mild concussion._

_That was the first time Jack had called him ‘Bitty’._

\---

When he collided the first thing that happened was that he dropped his stick.  One of the worst things about this moment was that Bitty’s body wanted to keep going forward while his head stayed behind, causing everything to tilt sideways.  He couldn’t see the ice anymore.  Bitty was sure he had hit the puck, had gotten close enough to it to send it to Ransom, but now he couldn’t see to tell.  He felt like he was falling too slowly.

Holster hit the ground just moments before he did.  Bitty had seen his legs still in the air, now falling as the rest of his body leveled out on the ice.  He had fallen on his face.  Best case scenario was that Holster would keep playing and they could all chirp him about the scrapes and bruises ruining his face.  Bitty would make him something nice since he would likely be sore later.

Or he planned to make Holster something nice.  Bitty was starting to think he would also feel too sore to do much baking now that he saw the blood droplets shooting up as Bitty kept falling down.  It reminded him of when Billy Dawson slipped and pushed him off of the jungle gym when he was six.  Bitty had a bloody lip and just sat in the mulch crying until his mama appeared at his side.

\---

_Suzanne Bittle was at the market when Samwell called her.  There wasn’t really a rule book for how to call a parent to let them know their child had been injured playing hockey.  There wasn’t any rules on how to process the information either._

_“I’m sorry?”  She said, not taking her eyes off of the food selection in front of her although she stopped really focusing on what she needed.  “There must be some mistake?  No, say that for me again.  I… what happened with Eric?”_

_She had planned to make a chicken casserole.  Her goal was to somehow improve her mother’s recipe to make it better.  Her mother always insisted that Suzanne could never improve what was already perfect, but she was determined._

_“The Samwell Team was out on the ice against Princeton, there was a collision with a few other players and Eric was injured.”  The man said, his voice soft as he spoke, even a bit slow, as if he didn’t understand what he was saying either._

_Sriracha was going to be the secret ingredient to make the casserole better.  During Parent’s weekend at Samwell one of the boys at that house gave her a bottle as a welcome gift.  When she got home to Madison that bottle didn’t last long, it went with just about everything._

_Suzanne left the cart abandoned in the frozen meat section._

\---

When Bitty hit the ground the dull ache on his neck now felt like it was burning.  It felt like his neck and chest and spots on his face were on fire.  It was almost like hot embers and a thousand wasps were landing on his body all at the same time.  All the air left him as his back hit the ice, the cold ground he was lying on didn’t do anything to stop the burning.

Bitty couldn’t breathe for a moment.  He watched as blood seemed to dangle in the air above his eyes, the burning getting worse.  The ice was so cold, Bitty didn’t know why he was so hot right now.  He rolled over so he could push himself up on his hands and knees, trying to get air back in his lungs.  The ice was changing color in front of him.  It was almost instantaneous, it went from a bluish white to a dark, deep red in the blink of an eye.  The burning on his neck was worse than anywhere else.

With one hand he reached up to touch it, his other hand going up to pull his helmet off.  It was too tight.  He couldn’t breathe.  The glove of his uniform was already red, but when he pulled his hand out in front of his face it was so dark it almost looked black.  It was shiny.  Bitty glanced up to see if the blood droplets were still hovering in the air, but he couldn’t see any of them.  Just the dozens of flashes from the crowd filling his view.

Bitty caught Holster’s gaze.  He did have a scrape on his chin, the guys would all chirp at him for it later.  He went to say something, but no words came, he couldn’t even open his mouth.  Holster’s eyes were wide, his face so pale Bitty thought he might be sick.

Ransom crashed into him.  Bitty didn’t know how he got over there so fast, he had been on the other side of the rink.  His cold fingers soothed the burning as they pressed against Bitty’s neck.  Ransom wasn’t wearing his gloves.  Why had he taken them off?

“Okay, Bitty.  You’re okay, don’t move.”  Ransom said, his voice rough and his eyes wide like they usually got during finals season.  But his hands, they were surprisingly steady.  While they usually held a pencil shakily as he prepared for his tests, they pressed against Bitty’s neck firm and solid.

As Ransom spoke it was almost like cotton Bitty didn’t even know was there had been pulled from his ears.  The stadium was so loud, the crowd screaming shrill and desperately and for a moment he wondered if someone made a shot.  He realized what was happening in a flash, reality crashing into him the moment he finally managed to take a breath.  Ransom kept a firm hold on his neck, cradling Bitty’s body against his chest carefully.  Bitty could look up at the man behind him, see the terrified desperation in his face, but Ransom held him as if he were a delicate child.

Coach used to hold him like this, whenever he was scared or upset.  Bitty would sit on his lap and his papa would pull him against his chest and promise that he was okay, he just had to be tougher.

\---

_There is some overlap between Football season and Hockey season.  A team of Madison high schoolers were running back and forth of the field.  They were doing well in the season, Coach was proud.  There was another game coming up that Friday.  He was determined to win that one as well.  If things kept going the way they were then they would make the playoffs without a problem._

_His assistant coach was the one to hand him the phone, a wide-eyed look on his face and Coach knew something was wrong the moment the man said it was Samwell.  He had seen that same look when he was told Junior had been injured as a freshman, almost a thousand miles away._

_“Hello?”  Coach said as he took the phone and put it to his ear._

_It was fall, but Georgia always seemed to be sweltering no matter what season it was.  He was sweating and was dreaming of the air conditioned indoors._

_“Mr. Bittle, I’m sorry to get ahold of you like this bu-“_

_“Is Junior alright?”  Coach asked.  He wanted to skip their apologies and formalities.  It would be best if they told him what was wrong right away._

_The team was still running their drills.  They were dedicated to their practice and training, if they stayed focused then they had a good shot at winning.  Coach had won trophies before, but he was more proud of the hard work and time a team could dedicate to a game they loved._

_He was freezing by the time he hung up the phone.  He abandoned his team, ditched the practice.  His assistant could take over just fine._

\---

Ransom was a biology major.  Bitty remembered the study sessions the haus had had during finals last year when Ransom had taken an advanced human anatomy course.  They were all tired, drinking coffee and energy drinks like water to a man in the desert.  Ransom had let his fingers trail carefully over Holster’s limbs, pointing out all the veins and arteries as he passed them.

“You’re going to be okay, I promise Bitty.”  Ransom said.  He hadn’t stopped those promises since he had appeared against him and grabbed hold of neck.  He was holding him so tightly and so securely that Bitty wanted to believe it.

There were so many cameras going off, so many people screaming.  The other players had dissipated around them with only Holster and the Princeton player still close by.  Bitty couldn’t see anyone else.  Chowder wasn’t tending the goal, but no one from the other team was going for it.  The puck was just a few feet away, Bitty apparently hadn’t hit it when he was struck, but no one came in to claim it.  Besides the flashing lights and screams of the crowd and a group of people, not dressed for a game of hockey, came rushing out onto the ice towards them.

Bitty was crying.  His face and neck all felt like it was on fire and everywhere he looked there was so much blood.  He was dying.  He had to be dying.  It wasn’t fair.  There were so many cameras going off that everyone would watch him die.  His mama would see the pictures, Jack would see the pictures, even Coach.  Blood kept dripping through the tight hold Ransom had on his neck and Bitty thought that wasn’t fair either.  That would probably be painful for his captain.  Ransom was trying so hard to keep him alive and Bitty was here dying anyway.

He had to be stronger, he had to stay alive because it wasn’t fair to everyone to have to watch him die out here on the ice.  The group of people got to them and were shouting orders and stating facts that Bitty couldn’t understand.  His mind wasn’t focusing enough for him to be able to hear what they were saying to him.  He just heard Ransom clearly, his constant promises that he would be okay.

\---

_Jack found out about it later.  He had been in practice all day.  They were deep into the season and they had to stay on top of things if they were going to make the playoffs.  He waved goodbye to Tater and Snowy and promised to see them again in the morning._

_He climbed into his car and pulled out his phone.  He always called Bitty after practice.  It was the highlight of his day getting to tell Bits about everything.  There were 53 missed calls and 21 voicemails.  Most of them from Lardo, a few from Shitty, and one or two from the other guys at Samwell.  None of them from Bitty.  He held his phone tightly as he dialed Lardo’s number._

_“Jack…”  She said as she answered, slow and sad and he forgot how to breathe._

_He had called Bitty that morning, wished him luck on the game against Princeton.  He had promised to come up and visit as soon as he got the chance, celebrate their winnings and praise his hard work.  He remembered seeing Bitty’s face when they had skyped last night, his warm pink skin flushed with embarrassment when he struggled through his French vocabulary._

_Jack knew he would miss practice in the morning when he promised her he would be there by the end of the night.  He would call the coaches, he would talk to Georgia, they would all understand._

\---

The team doctor’s hands replaced Ransom as Bitty was moved to a stretcher and taken from the stadium.  He could still see his captains, both of them scared and shaken and staring at him.  Ransom’s hands were red and stained and wet, he held them close to his chest.  He looked like a mess, blood down the front of his jersey. He looked like he had walked straight out of a horror film.  Bitty thought that maybe Ransom would like that if it wasn’t his blood covering him.

Holster looked fine.  The scrape on his chin would probably be healed within a week or two.  He hoped he would get the chance to chirp him.  It wasn’t everyday a scrape ruined his perfect face.  Bitty didn’t think Holster cared about his looks all that much, but he was pretty and so it had become tradition.

“You still with me, son?”  The doctor said as he hovered over Bitty.  He was the one hold his neck now, his hands just as steady as Ransom’s had been.

Bitty didn’t answer, he didn’t think he could.  His face and neck was burning.  He tried to open his mouth and say a simple ‘yes, sir’ or maybe just nod, but the idea of nodding was terrifying.  So he just stared up at the man, his eyes wide and alert.  He was still here.  He wasn’t dying on the ice, so there wouldn’t be any pictures of that at least.  He wasn’t going to die in Ransom’s arms so maybe that would be a bit easier.

“Do you know what’s happening, son?”  The doctor asked.  Bitty wanted to say that he did.

Hockey was a contact sport made even more dangerous by the fact that they had blades strapped to their feet.  Bitty wasn’t the first player to get their throat slashed by an ice skate.  Bitty was loaded up into an ambulance and as he was taken away he looked up at the doctor holding onto him.  He wanted to tell the man that he knew exactly what had happened to him.  He had gone right into Holster’s skate when he was flipped over the other player.  It had jammed into his neck and he had already lost a lot of blood.

He didn’t want to know how he looked right now.  Probably pale and horrified.  He was still crying.  His neck was probably a mess, there was still so much blood and so many people working around him that he wondered if it looked really bad.

Bitty didn’t know anyone around him.  He didn’t know the doctor holding onto his neck, he didn’t know the ones poking and prodding him with equipment and looking him over carefully.  He felt so very alone among these strangers.  He didn’t want to die here.  He had to be stronger, his eyes were watering more now and he must look like a real mess just bawling his eyes out like this.  Coach never cried like this.

\---

_Suzanne was surprised by the amount of people in the waiting room.  There had been a news van outside, but inside it was twenty or so hockey players.  Some were in their uniforms, some weren’t.  They all looked up when she walked in, clutching her husband’s hand so tight her knuckles were white._

_“Where is my baby?”  She asked, her focus immediately going to Jack.  He looked so small, Mr. Crappy’s arm around his shoulders as he hunched in on himself._

_“Ma’am.”  Mr. Hall said, Eric’s coach.  He stepped in front of her, Larissa by his side, before Suzanne could get closer to Jack.  “I’m glad you had a safe trip.  I wish you could have travelled up here on better circumstances.”_

_“Where is Eric?”  She asked.  She looked away from Mr. Hall and instead spoke to Larissa.  She refused to call the girl Lardo, it seemed so rude.  But she was Eric’s good friend, she would know what was happening to him._

\---

Bitty was in surgery for a long time, he didn’t know the exact number of hours, but it had been a real long time.  From what he heard it was long enough for his parents to show to the hospital, for Jack to become a permanent fixture in the waiting room, and for Ransom to clean off all the blood off of his hands.

There were so many painkillers in his system he didn’t think this was all real.  It felt sluggish and fuzzy, like a surreal dream that always felt off.  Mama held his hand tight as she cried.  No one said anything, she just cried and covered her eyes as she held his hand.  Coach stood by the window, looking at the rain and orange leaves.  His shoulders were tight and so high it was almost like he was trying to hide behind them.

“You broke your jaw.” Lardo said.  Mama insisted she come in here with them.  Mama liked Lardo.  “Not the worse injury you could have got, but when you slammed into that skate all the force went somewhere.  They wired it shut, so you won’t be talking for a while.”

Bitty didn’t like that.  He wanted Jack, but now he couldn’t even ask for him.  His mama squeezed his hand even tighter as she removed her hand from her eyes and wiped away her tears to look at him.

“Larissa has been really kind to us.”  Mama said.  “The doctors don’t want you to have too many visitors, but we’re your family and we knew you loved her so much.”

Bitty looked at Lardo, tried to ask for Jack in any silent way he could.  She looked sad, her hands rubbing together in front of her.  He had missed Jack’s call, they always called each other after games and practices.  Jack was probably so scared, but he’s alright now.  Bitty had survived, his mama wouldn’t have to see pictures of him bleeding out and he was strong enough for Coach not to die.  Now he just needed to see Jack, hold his hand, he was probably so nervous right now.

“If you’re feeling up to it later we can bring your friend Justin.  He saved your life, you know.”  Mama said, still trying to wipe her eyes dry.  Ransom was doing alright then, he was here.  “Poor boy has been asking about you so much.  He visited earlier, just sat next to you and made sure you were alive.

Coach huffed at that.  For the first time since Bitty opened his eyes Coach turned to look at him.  His eyes were red, Bitty still thought this was a dream because he didn’t think Coach ever cried.  Bitty wanted his papa to pick him up and hold him, rock him and promise there weren’t any monsters under the bed.  He wanted his papa to promise he would be okay.

“Let the boy rest, Suzanne.”  Coach said softly.  “He don’t need more visitors.”

“Jack.”  Lardo said.  Bitty hummed softly, it made his neck feel weird.  “You should let Jack come see him.  He’ll be quiet and he’ll let Bitty sleep, but he’s been here for hours and it will do him some good.”

Bitty hoped his parents would say yes.  He needed to see Jack now.

“Jack?”  Mama said, tilting her head a bit.  “Yes, Jack.”

Mama liked Jack.  He had come down to Madison for the Fourth of July last summer.  It had been such a treat, since Jack was missing Canada day just to be in Georgia with him for those few days.  He ate everything mama put in front of him and explained the dynamics of hockey to Coach in such an understandable way that Bitty never could.

“Do you want to see Jack, junior?”  Coach asked.  Bitty wanted to say yes.

\---

_Ransom had been close to a panic when he pulled his hands off of Bitty’s neck.  The doctor’s hands were over his, taking his place in an instant.  He didn’t feel it anymore, Bitty’s pulse, waves and waves that pushed through him.  Ransom had to keep hold of him, otherwise that pulse would kill him._

_He had held Bitty close, the boy’s back against his chest, and had pinched the severed artery to stop it from letting his blood flow free.  Bitty had been so cold against him, had been solid and close, but at least he could see him and know he was alive._

_Holster stayed by Ransom’s side, his voice was flat, his eyes were empty.  Holster looked terrible.  They wouldn’t talk about it, not until that night when they both cried up in the attic where no one would see or hear.  Holster’s skate had cut Bits open, Ransom had held him tight and kept him alive.  He didn’t like not being able to see him at every moment, cold terror washing over him as soon as the doors of the ambulance closed and Bitty was taken away._

_As soon as they arrived at the hospital they were told Bitty was in surgery.  Hours later, after Jack and eventually the Bittles showed up, they were told only family could visit.  Lardo had held a weeping mother’s hand for hours and Ransom heard her promise a thousand times that Bitty would be just fine, now waved her goodbye as they went to see their son.  Holster told a nurse that both he and Ransom were Bitty’s brothers.  She didn’t let them see him._

_Ransom was surprised when he was allowed to see Bitty again, Mrs. Bittle hugged him and thanked him for saving her son.  He was pale and clammy, but his chest was moving up and down and the heart monitor beeped over and over again.  It was the best sound in the world.  He got to see Bitty, got to hold his hand.  He was alive._

_He went back out into the waiting room after a while, the fear gone but his hands shaking just a bit.  Jack looked at him expectantly, a nurse told Holster that only family could visit.  Mrs. Bittle called for Lardo._

\---

“Hey, Bits.”  Jack said, standing in the doorway with the largest stuffed rabbit the gift shop had.  Jack smiled when he caught Bitty looking at it. 

He set it down right next to the bed where Bitty could reach over and touch it if he wanted.  Bitty didn’t reach out to touch the fur, he looked down at it and smiled, but took Jack’s hand instead of stroking the rabbit.

“He just woke up a little while ago.  He’s not entirely alert.”  His mama said.  Bitty would tell her he was alert enough if he could open his mouth.

“I don’t mind.”  Jack said, dropping into a seat and squeezing Bitty’s hand back.  Bitty was happy Jack was here, he wanted to apologize for missing his after game call, but at least he had Jack here.  “Had me so worried Bits.  I thought… Well, I’m just happy to see you’re awake.  Princeton, that’s some bad luck with them.”

Bitty wanted to talk to Jack.  He had so many things he wanted to say; wanted to tell him he loved him, he wanted to tell his parents he loved Jack, he wanted to thank Ransom for holding him and thank his parents for everything.  He wanted to tell Holster he was okay.  Instead he just squeezed Jack’s hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Because I've had multiple requests to continue this I made it a series. I'll maybe write another oneshot where we discuss aftermath...


End file.
